Where your treasure is there will your heart be also

If there is one thing that defines my dad, it is that he is an avid coin collector and treasure hunter. Sure he has more faults than the average guy, and he offends almost everyone upon first meeting them, but you can't say he doesn't know his coins and his ancient history.

I have many childhood memories of my dad telling us random facts about this or that Holy Roman Emperor, which king was married to which country's queen, and which royal offspring were horrifically deformed because of all the inbreeding. Yes, I know all about Leopold the Hogmouth. And I've seen his lovely coin as well.

I've had to watch countless documentaries of recovery missions for sunken treasures, and we've all been been quizzed on the seven wonders of the world. (But don't ask me to list them today.) Our annual Christmas traditions include passing around a handful of coins that existed at the time of Christ's birth, and which "May have been handled by Cyrenius himself."
I must admit I've been impressed by 2,000-year-old coins bearing the likeness of Zeus, and I can't help but snicker when I recall several different people trying to impress me with some really old coins from the eighteen hundreds. Ha.

While these endless lessons on history may have seemed redundant at times, they did instill in my siblings and myself a great interest in history and learning, which thankfully spilled over into our school work and grades. Well, for most of us. It also caused each of us to go through an annoying stage where we all try to sound smarter than each other, and prove that we know more than everybody else. Okay, we're still that way...I guess thats where the holiday Trivial Pursuit game comes in.

As we've grown older, my dad has made attempts at passing his love of coins on to his children, especially his three sons. When my two oldest brothers were little, he bought them both child size metal detectors so they could go out hunting with him. It soon became obvious that Dain wasn't that interested in the hobby, but Thain would go out with him once in a while. I'm not sure if it was really that exciting to him, or if he was just glad to spend some time with dad? But then, Thain has always been the sensitive type. Maybe he could sense how much it meant to dad to have someone share his interests.

More recently, dad has tried to establish coin collections for the two of my brothers still at home. He has spent quite a bit of money and time trying to set these collections up. While Thain was on his mission in Slovenia, it seemed like my dad bought him a new rare coin every week. More recently, both he and my youngest brother were given sets of silver half-dollars and rare dimes, which took quite a while for my dad to accumulate.

Now let me tell you a little about my youngest brother. He's a smart guy, and just like the rest of us, he knows he's smart. But paradoxically, he could also be described as not being the sharpest tool in the shed. When he was a young kid, he'd do the stupidest things. He hammered a big hole in the wall in the basement, made knife holes all over the couch, and cut open his own mattress. He has a case of cleptomania, and a major problem with lying.

You'd think maybe he was an angry child, or had ADD or something to explain this behavior. But he always seemed completely normal, and would lie right to your face to deny that he did any of these things, even if you saw him do it!

He is now out of high school, and on the surface he is a normal, bright teenager. But he still does some pretty moronic things. Like when he spent his dime collection on food from Dairy Queen. Or when he spent his silver half-dollar collection on a singing valentine for his girlfriend and some more food for himself. (Yes, he had a job at one point, but decided it was too much effort to show up any more.)

When my dad realized that my brother's collection was missing, he thought he must have sold the coins at a pawn shop, or to a collector perhaps. He was angry enough...but when he realized that the coin collection worth hundreds of dollars had been spent at face value? I'm sure you can imagine the depth of the disdain he must feel towards my brother, not to mention the hurt and betrayal.

While I still love my brother, I can't believe he would do something so foolish and hurtful. And based on his history, he probably won't even acknowledge that anything has happened either.

To this day, my dad spends each night with his 'treasure' (yes, he actually calls it that,) spread out around him, as he handles and rearranges them for hours on end. My brother, Thain, dutifully preserves the coins my dad continues to buy him, perhaps saving them for his posterity. And my youngest brother? I don't think he's getting any more rare coins. At least not in the near future.

Posters

Since no one was too excited about my story (sniff)...

Last night and today I've been working on a couple of posters for an event at church. Ever since my early teen years, I've been asked to make posters, flyers, or other forms of advertisement for a variety of church functions. I really don't mind, and these days its the only time I get to have any type of 'art' on public display. The thing is, I always wonder how they feel about the finished product, you know, those people who asked me to do it.

Because I can draw, some folks assume that I'm all crafty, that I have exquisite penmanship, and that I'm all about cutesy, clever designs. Unfortunately for them, this couldn't be further from the truth. My penmanship is interesting, but not elaborate in anyway. I don't 'do' bows, lace, or scrapbooky stuff, though I've been known to admire especially unique designs by others. When I attempt crafts, I tend to try and make it artsy which usually just ruins the whole thing.

But I've learned since my youth that if I throw some sort of drawing into the poster (or flyer, or invitation) then others will overlook the lack of elegance they've come to expect in such items from church.

See, here is one of the two posters I've been working on:


Qooh, a girl with twirly hair... and look, a hat with flowers! See, you totally didn't notice the lack of tissue paper and decaled edges, not to mention the poor spacing of the lettering. ( The hats represent the different roles women play.)

Of course this style seemed to work better for my time as a YW leader than it does for RS.

I am also in charge of invitations for this event. For things like this, I like to skim through art work I already have, and just tweak and reuse it. In fact, I think I used a version of this same drawing for a YW program in my last Ward. I guess I like this picture. (In the original, there were flowers in her hand instead of a hat, I just drew that in with Photoshop.)


See, I figure I take this, stick it to some sort of colored card stock and call it a day. Some committee people were supposed to come over this evening to help put these together, but they postponed at the last minute. Grrr. Not that I rushed to get everything ready for them today or anything.
I figure when they do actually come, they can make decisions regarding bow placement or tissue paper, if they so desire. I hope they're not disappointed.

Po-Pee McGee and the Baby Salt Mines: Part Two

Note: to read part one, see previous post or click here.

Whomever this ethereal stranger was, Po-pea had a feeling that he meant no harm.

After several babies had trudged by on their way to the mess tent, the stranger gently whispered, “I am here to take you back to your mother and father…and your sister.”

Po-pee gasped. “I have a family? A sister?!”

There was a hint of a memory.. a little girl hovering around and pestering him, but he had just assumed he was raised by fairies or some such annoying creature.

The man chuckled at Joshua’s surprise. “Yes, you have a sister who is alive and well. Unfortunately, Don Jimmy has lured her away too. She is now under close surveillance at his Buffalo Chip factory in the frozen north.”

The man rummaged under his cloak for a moment then set a tattered photograph on the salty earth next to Po-pee.

So this was his sister?He leaned forward with great interest. Yes, she did bear a striking resemblance to that obnoxious fairy he had though a figment of his imagination.

Most of the babies and guards had moved out of earshot by this time, so the mysterious man edged closer to Poe-pee, kneeling down behind a salt dune to avoid attention.

“You are perhaps wondering why a stranger would want to help you, Po-pee.”

Po-pee nodded, his eyes wide.

“The first thing you should know,” the man said softly, “is that your name is not Po-pee McGee. That is just what Don Jimmy wants you to believe. Your true name is Joshua. And I am no stranger.” He gently put his hand on Joshua’s slight shoulder.

“I am your mothers brother. You may call me Uncle Thain.” With that the man threw back his hood and Joshua gasped. That smooth head, the warm brown eyes..

“Why, you look just like me!” he gulped in amazement.

“Yes. It’s a very rare condition , but I am in fact your twin uncle. We share a special bond, Joshua, and that is how I was able to find you. But I’m not the only uncle you need to worry about right now. Sadly, you also have another uncle known as Jimmy Cocoa puff. You may know him as……Don Jimmy.

Joshua gasped in horror, and his lip began to quiver. “Nooooo! He’s not my uncle! How could he?! Why would he do this to his own family?"

Thain held his small nephew close and rubbed his head soothingly. "We've been wondering that for years now, Joshua. Perhaps someday we will be able to ask him what made him such a bitter tyrant. But tonight, he happens to be away to his northern stronghold...and tonight you are leaving this place.

"I will need your help, Joshua. You are possessed of many powers you may not now remember. But together, we can rescue your sister and end this once and for all. What do you say?"

Joshua looked up into his twin uncle's eyes, his face full of determination. He nodded.

" Of course."

Po-Pee McGee and the Baby Salt Mines: Part One

note: I am going to try and restrain myself and post this in more than one part, so stay tuned!

Po-pee McGee wearily wiped the sweat off his bare head before retying the blue salt-encrusted bandana around his neck. The sun beating down on his brow was nothing compared to the glare from the surrounding salt flats, and he squinted his eyes against the blinding light.

It seemed like forever that he had worked here in the dreary Baby Salt Mines. He barely remembered the last day of his idyllic former life, though anything before that was a distant blur. That distant afternoon he had been lounging on the beach, enjoying the rhythmic lullaby of the waves washing back and forth along the shore.

He could still recall the strange man that had slunk out of nowhere, offering him all the delicious cereal he could eat, the man with the black cape and the hooded brown eyes. Innocently, he had followed him away, only to learn the hard way that this stranger was the one and only Don Jimmy, the Baron of the Baby Salt Mines.

Now his life was one long waking dream of salt, sun, and sorrow. How long had he been here? One, maybe two weeks? Or were they years? He had given up on ever returning to that hazy existence on the sea shore, the distant life that he was forgetting more and more each day.

At least Don Jimmy’s promise about the cereal had been true: every evening when the work was over, the baby miners were treated to all the cereal they could eat. Small comfort, considering the crushing workload that lay ahead the next day.

Po-pee sighed, and began to clean up for the evening. Suddenly, he heard an unfamiliar voice whisper behind him.

“Don’t move, Po-pee. Let the others go to dinner without you….I’m here to rescue you! Pretend that we are not talking.”

Po-pee kept his head down, but out of the corner of his eye he saw a tall stranger shrouded in a billowing white cloak. This was certainly not another baby! Nor did he think it was one of the harsh task masters of the mines; they always wore the black and red of the house of Don Jimmy. Whoever this ethereal stranger was, Po-pee had a feeling that he meant no harm.

To be continued.....